


a girl named hope

by openended



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openended/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s always struck Narcissa as strange that Helen answers her own door and normally she’d comment on it but right this moment she needs to be anyone but Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius’ Wife And Draco’s Mum.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	a girl named hope

She apparates to an alley behind the towering Sanctuary. It’s nearly a miscalculation and she stumbles to find her balance and keep from falling into the river. Transcontinental apparition is something she generally avoids; the last time she visited this continent, she arrived by portkey. She straightens her jacket and smooths her hair and walks the remaining block and a half to the Sanctuary. She doesn’t have much time.

“Narcissa.” Helen blinks in surprise at the other woman standing on her doorstep. She blinks again and realizes that her friend looks _terrible_. “Come in.” She pulls the heavy wooden door all the way open to allow Narcissa to slip by her into the cool shadows of the Sanctuary.

It’s always struck Narcissa as strange that Helen answers her own door and normally she’d comment on it but right this moment she needs to be anyone but Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius’ Wife And Draco’s Mum. There’s a war on, one she’s never been particularly interested in fighting, and the moment the door closes behind her with a muffled _thud_ she feels a weight lifted from her shoulders. She steps away from the door, knowing the weight will be right where she left it when it’s time to leave.

“Ashley,” Helen says to her daughter, in the middle of her tenth lap around the first floor looking for the hibernating dwarf Henry told her he hid somewhere in the building (a lie told to get her out of his hair for a while so he could finish a video game), “have Henry check your math homework and then see if you can help with dinner.”

“Mom!”

Helen raises her eyebrows and lifts her chin just enough to indicate infallible authority.

With nothing more than a cursory glance at the newcomer – any more would be a glare for interrupting her search, and the punishment for being rude to a guest is _cleaning up_ after dinner, much worse than helping cook the meal – Ashley heads for the stairs, her first few steps hard stomps until she loses interest in being mad and finishes the rest at a run.

Helen takes one look at Narcissa – thin, scared, and exhausted, though perfectly dressed and coiffed to cover it all – and takes her hand. She silently leads the witch up a back, unused staircase so they’ll avoid meeting anyone in the hallways, and they end up in Helen’s closet.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the dark in someone’s closet,” Narcissa says, the barest hint of a smile in her voice. She knows the necessity and strangeness of secret and hidden passages; the past months have seen her use them more than usual as she ducks away from her husband and her sister and the horrors that have invaded her home. It’s her own fault: she offered up Malfoy Manor as headquarters as attempted amends for the failures of the men in her family. But she hadn’t anticipated that they’d quite literally move in.

Helen chuckles and opens the closet door, revealing her bedroom. The sunset casts a pinkish red glow over the cream sheets and pillows, highlighting the gold undertones of the deep mahogany bed frame and matching furniture. She steps into the room, Narcissa following her, and kicks off her heels, curling her toes into the carpet.

Her meetings with Narcissa are always infrequent, but have become nonexistent over the past four years. She’s known that something evil has been brewing in the magical world; she remembers the last time it bubbled over into all-out war and the signs are the same this time. She doesn’t agree with Narcissa’s public stance on things, but she’s learned over the past two decades that _Narcissa_ doesn’t agree with Narcissa’s public stance on things. There are few reasons Narcissa would appear out of the blue, without warning or discussion, looking as haunted as she does. Helen doesn’t like any of them.

“Shall I ask?” Helen gives her the option of talking if she wants, though she knows that Narcissa is here for comfort, not words.

Narcissa stares at the setting sun, the brilliant colors reflecting off the river in a way that she thinks should only be magical. But she knows there’s nothing magical about the Earth rotating around the sun, or the colors produced during a sunset. “No,” she whispers. She inhales and her breath shakes as Helen stands behind her and settles her arms around her waist, capturing her hands, enfolding them in slender fingers softer than skin has any right to be.

Helen presses her lips to Narcissa’s hair, breathing in the faint scent of roses. Underneath, though, and barely noticeable, is fire. She holds her a little tighter.

Narcissa turns and curls her hand around Helen’s neck, bringing her in for a kiss so she won’t notice the tears threatening to fall. She has an hour.

An hour before she’s expected at the table in Malfoy Manor.

An hour before they discuss the problem of Hogwarts.

An hour before the world ends.


End file.
